


Not Your Responsibility

by IronSpoon (OddColor)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Abuse, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OddColor/pseuds/IronSpoon
Summary: He told you not to go on the mission.Told you not to go with Clint for backup.Now you have to deal with the consequences.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Sam Wilson & Reader
Kudos: 26





	Not Your Responsibility

Hand gripped around your upper arm, your back was pressed up against the wall of your shared bedroom. You stare at his chest that was barely avoiding contact with your face, the heat from your own breath echoing off of it, refusing to look him in the eye like he wanted. Even the slam of the apartment’s door doesn’t lessen the intensity of his gaze or the tightness of his fingers around you.  
“Bucky! In the hall. Now!” With Steve’s words, you finally look up at Bucky, silently daring him to disobey orders.  
For just a moment, you begin to worry that maybe it wasn’t the smartest move on your part, when Bucky just stood there as if Steve hadn’t said anything at all.  
There was a hint of concern in his voice as he repeated, “Bucky. Please.”  
His hand dropping to his side, Bucky’s eyes never left yours, even as he was walking out of the room, Steve on his heels.  
In contrast, Steve wouldn’t look at you at all. 

“Do you really think he cares if she gets hurt or not?!” you hear Bucky argue.  
In order to hear Steve’s side, you walk to the doorway, knowing he’s the more likely one of the two to keep his voice under control.  
“Of course he cares. He cares as much as he would if it were Nat-”  
“She’s NOT Nat, Steve! And Barton forgets that! She’s not like Nat.”  
“He also forgets that _he_ isn’t like her either.”  
Bucky scoffs, “No. He doesn’t _care_ about putting himself, or anyone, in danger!”

Emotions were getting the best of him, you tried to remind yourself. Any other time, Bucky had enough sense to avoid comparing you to those more-than-human around you.  
And Steve? Steve was just trying to help. Just trying to calm him down.

Bucky never trusted that Clint was capable of keeping you safe. As often as the two of you worked together, Bucky had more than enough opportunities to make this known, though only you and Steve knew to what extent this distrust ran.  
Clint was in the habit of working with others who were super soldiers, had powers, or advanced tech to help them. None of which applied to you. Bucky assumed that this detail would slip Clint’s mind in the middle of missions. That Clint would just lapse into his old mindset of being surrounded by those a bit more durable than the pair of you. 

Whether the two Super Soldiers were too caught up in their own disagreement to notice or they simply let you slip out of the apartment without attempting to stop you, you really didn’t care.  
Still in your mission uniform, you headed towards the gym where you kept a spare change of clothes and would be able to take a shower while you were there. 

You march past whoever else may be in the room, heading straight towards the locker room, your head too muddied with thoughts to register any other occupants.  
Finally stripping out of your clothes, you toss them carelessly along the wall and step into the steam of the shower. As the water hits your skin, you turn the heat up a bit more than usual, attempting to interrupt your racing mind. Forehead against the still cool wall of the shower stall, you close your eyes.

- _  
With the sharp sound of breaking glass your mentor, your best friend was collapsing to the ground while blood started to soak the front of his clothing.  
Before you could even figure out where the noise had come from, the air was knocked from your lungs. One second you had been standing in the abandoned waiting area, surveying the ground below through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Then that engulfing boom broke through the silence, shattering the remaining glass and causing you to fall to the floor. On your back, you gasped for air, reaching blindly around you for your bow. Ears ringing and room spinning, you’re unable to locate it and roll onto your stomach to try and push yourself up off the ground, only to immediately stumble onto your hands and knees. Through your disoriented state, you make out a pair of boots walking towards you.  
For a moment you were relieved. Steve had made his way to you and you’d both be alright.  
No sooner than it arrived, the relief turned to dread.  
Those were not Steve’s boots. In fact, those boots didn’t belong to anyone on the team.  
You try to turn your head to get a look at the figure’s face, willing your body to focus despite the pain.  
Fingers through your hair, the figure holds tight and pulls you upward to look at your face.  
_-

“You don’t plan on staying in there all night, do you?”  
You lift your head from the wall, the familiar voice tearing you from your thoughts.  
Not saying anything in return, you turn off the water and grab your towel.  
Arms crossed, leaning against the wall directly in front of the shower you just exited, Sam greets you with a half smile. That smile is short lived as his brows furrow and eyes narrow in on your arm.  
“What the hell happened?!” he asks, looking back up at you.  
Glancing at the spot where Bucky had been holding onto you earlier, you see the blue and purple marks already forming an obvious handprint.  
“Aren’t going to believe me if I tell you it’s from the blast, are you?” you sigh, turning away from him to reach for your clothes.  
When you turn back around, Sam has his head down.  
“Which one?”  
“What?”  
He looks up at you and repeats, “Which one? Which of them did that?”  
Nodding at your bruising with his last words.


End file.
